And fame with all her tongues repeat his praise! Whose scepter shall _Astrea's_ rule restore, And bid dejected MERIT[38] sigh no more. As once directed by the voice of fame To _wisdom's King_ the _southern princess_ came; At FREDERICK'S call ... see ravish'd to obey, The sons of learning take their chearful way; To hear _that_ sense which still attention draws; And bless _that_ goodness which directs his laws; Close by his throne _Philosophy_ shall smile, To view her prince approve her children's toil! While _Science_ joys to see his kind regards Inspire the muse, his bounty still rewards; Not distant far, calm _Charity_ shall stand, Stretching to _Piety_ her social hand: _Justice_ shall banish _arbitrary might_, And _Commerce_ chearful _Plenty_ shall invite: But _Goodness_ chief ... in form angelic drest, (Such as she lives in FREDERICK'S royal breast!) Beneath her wings shall bid the worthy find A shelter from the storms that vex mankind; The friend of truth, by fraud or malice hurl'd Through all the mazes of a faithless world. Whom envy persecutes and bigots hate, Shall here enjoy an undisturb'd retreat; With HIM, who scorns the empty pride or blood, But shares his grandeur with the _wise_ and _good_! What tho' his prudence guards the chance of war, His mildness eyes the mischief from afar! What tho' his arms might _Cæsar's_ laurels find, The peaceful olive suits his greater mind: Yet safe in all events the storm he views, In peace or war ... the darling of the Muse! In either state, alike insur'd success, Since all his aim is to defend and bless! Yet while impending clouds their darkness spread, He arms for war ... but arms without a dread! No _giant forms_[39] compose a vain parade, No glittering _figures_ of the _warrior-trade_: Valour he courts without the pomp of art, And rises on the service of the heart: He boasts it all his glory to be just (A pride beyond the title of _August_!) Which time secures, the most impartial friend, And guards his _name_ till nature fells her end! So when beneath the curs'd _Cæsarian_ race _Rome_ felt the horrors of her first disgrace; Great _Trajan_ rose with every virtue blest, To give the weary world the sweets of rest: No blood, no conquest mark'd his spotless reign, 'Twas goodness form'd th' inviolable chain; E'en _India's_ Kings receiv'd the willing yoke, For goodness is a band no savage broke! Not _Salem's_ walls defil'd with wilful blood, A crime, her victor's clemency withstood: Not all her honours levell'd with the dust, Styl'd _Titus good_, or _merciful_, or _just_: Love knit the charm on which his greatness rose, A charm! not worlds united can oppose! Behold the glorious pattern marks your rise! Nor quit the steps by which he gain'd the skies: